


Manus in manu

by vedekbareil



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, During First Class, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, buhhh how do you tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vedekbareil/pseuds/vedekbareil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik mourns the loss of his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manus in manu

Erik Lensherr would die on a Thursday.

The 8th of May.  He had it marked in his diary, 8th of May, every year.   
He didn’t look much like a corpse. He was tanned and flaccid, a trace of stoutness remains between the folds of his skin, though he’s dead, he can still speak and move in small measures, simple steps and sentences delivered with little meaning or emotion.   
His lips pull together to form a tight, thin line. His jaw is shapely and sharp, overall, his face; Symmetrical. His eyes are a bright, piercing green in colour. He didn’t look much like a corpse, but he walked like one, he spoke like one, the skin around his eyes would hollow like one. His body was cold and his limbs were stiff, he spoke bitterly, with a bitter expression, words catching at the back of his throat.

Behind his eyes burnt a flame, raged a storm, a mistral to blow the cobwebs from your mind. The metallic stench of blood surrounded him, thick, weighing on his mind, coating his hands.

**_Tick,_ **

**_Tick,_ **

**_Tick,_ **

The clock chimed midday once, twice, a third time. Over and Over until he was tempted to destroy it in a fit of rage. It was all smoke, guilt and screams, dark pits, mass graves, throwing up on the earthy floor. Blood splattered across the road when the dust cleared. His world was a Barren wasteland.

Death and smoke,

Shovelling earth over dried corpse’. Filthy, disgusting animals. Disgust. Not at them, at the uniforms. Black. The armbands. Red. Staring at a spot on the wall.

A slight feeling of dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach. Even as he walked –each step taken with measured precaution, in an effort not to fall face first onto the concrete- he felt his blood pressure drop, a pounding, ringing in his ears. He stopped abruptly, the heel of his hand colliding with his temple. An attempt to keep him grounded.

Peering back over his shoulder, he could faintly see the car in the distance, shimmering under the luminescent orange glow of a street light. Everything burnt, and the feeling of nausea set in atop the exhaustion.

**_Tick,_ **

**_Tick,_ **

**_Tick_ **

With each step he took, behind him a trail of blood was left. Black blood that boiled—the blood of the guilty. Thick like tar, he stood before them, he accused, and he took. The words whispered on a gentle, autumn wind.

He was the righteous man.

The mansion was as big and intimidating as it had always been, except now, it was brimming with people. It was no longer the two of them against the rest of the world.  
The seconds dragged into minutes as he waited in the foyer, anticipating the esteemed presence with baited breath. He could have killed them all. It would have been easy, of course it would, but he was the very essence of a gentleman. It simply wouldn’t do.

But it would have been easy. He would have enjoyed it. A flick of his finger and he could have them all kneeling before him. He could have the power he craved.

Footsteps fell softly against the empty, tiled hall. Softly, yet it still resounded in the cavernous space at the back of his mind. Pressing a finger to his temple, now, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Surely he had alerted the telepath by now, he must have been projecting, in some capacity.   
He’d been reckless, despite every precaution he had taken to ensure that no one would bother him, he had been met with spiteful taunts. Today wasn’t a day especially geared for patience.

**_Tick,_ **

**_Tick,_ **

**_Tick,_ **

 


End file.
